Assassin's Creed
by Rhivanna
Summary: Padawan Xanatos DelThani had nearly completed his Trials. One more mission would see him Knighted... or at least it would have. Lost to Togorian raiders, Xanatos was presumed dead. Ten years later though, all is not as it seems....
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars universe, nor do I own the Jedi Apprentice series or any of its characters. I am not making money off of this; if I were I would not be a poor college student.

Author's Note: Italics equals speaking over the Master-Apprentice bond unless otherwise noted.

* * *

Prologue:

They had not counted on pirates. The mission itself had been causing enough tension - both Master and Padawan resented the suggestion that Xanatos was unready to become a Knight, and wanted nothing more than to get in, complete their objective, and return to the Temple. The first pirate attack had left the ship reeling - the second came out of nowhere and occurred while the pilot was still attempting to fix the shield generator. The Corellian, a human by the name of Stieg Wa, had been captured and they had perhaps five minutes before they were boarded in Xanatos's estimation. The pirates would have to secure Stieg Wa, give the order to cease firing, and then they would be up to their ears in furry, stinking, noisy Togorians. They had five minutes to vacate the ship. Five minutes. The sirens were blaring as Xanatos dragged his master toward the escape pod, cursing fluently under his breath the whole way. They could not afford to delay, not for anything; every second lost was a second closer to destruction.

"Hurry!" Xanatos urged as the floor shook beneath their feet.

"Xanatos, what…?"

"I've programmed the escape pod to take us to Telos; if we can get there…"

"Why?" The question stopped Xanatos in his tracks for just a moment; he turned to look at his Master with a grim smile on his face.

"I always have a back door," he answered, then turned and led them deeper into the ship.

They had just barely reached the escape pods when another explosion rocked the ship. Xanatos watched in shock and horror as the lights on the escape pods changed from green to red without his ever pressing a button. A cursory examination told him all he needed to know; they were doomed.

"Master…"

"I see. We'll have to fight them off."

"In this bucket of bolts?!"

"You were not so dubious a few hours ago, Padawan. We shall have to convince them that we're not worth the trouble." Xanatos nodded; they truly had no other option.

"I'll try and make my way to the cockpit," he said, anticipating his Master's plans. Qui-Gon nodded.

"May the Force be with you," he said. Xanatos nodded in return, not wasting time to return the sentiment.

* * *

The noise was incredible; Qui-Gon could feel a raging headache building as he fought off one pirate after another, their war cries echoing in his ears. He had managed to force them into a tight corridor at last; their only option was to approach him one by one, making his job much easier than it might have been. That said, he was beginning to wonder what had happened to Xanatos; he had heard the boom of the forward guns up to a point, but then the haze of battle had taken over and now he could not tell if he felt only his own concern or his Padawan's as well as he took on the towering bandits.

"Jedi scum!!" The cry came from his newest adversary, a black-furred, fearsome looking Togorian whose belt was adorned with what looked suspiciously like skulls. If asked to guess, the Jedi Master might have said that this one was the Captain or at least the First Mate; the scars he glimpsed through the thick fur of the Felinoid spoke of many battles waged. He approached with a roar and then the battle was on, blow matching blow. The Jedi Master, however, had seen just as many battles as the Togorian, and had gained more skill over the years; he was slowly but surely gaining ground, backing the Togorian down the corridor until…

Agony flared across the training bond he still shared with Xanatos. Surprise, fear, and not a little anger all mingled into a strangled cry and then the connection went blank. Qui-Gon staggered for a moment, nearly overwhelmed by the strength of his Padawan's emotions; he barely managed to block the next stroke from the pirate Captain.

"_Xanatos? Xanatos!"_ The shout should have been nearly audible to non-Force users, let alone a gifted Jedi such as Xanatos, but there was no response, and Qui-Gon realized with a sick feeling that wherever he was, Xanatos was unconscious. The next attack put him on the defensive, and he was all but defeated when a deafening roar echoed across the ship. With a snarl, the pirate was gone, leaving Qui-Gon weak and clutching a bleeding shoulder wound. The ship was listing as he made his way out of the corridor but he did not care; the pirates were gone and Xanatos…

Was nowhere to be found. Cables hung, sparking, from the ceilings and the lights flickered in the corridors but there was no sign of the Jedi Padawan. The bond was useless; the young man was evidently well and truly knocked out, and on the floor….

"No_…"_ He could see scorch marks on the walls along with blaster points, but the only sign of Xanatos present on the entire ship was a lightsaber, still ignited, lying on the floor in a pool of coolant fluid.

"_**NO!!**_**"**


	2. Eight Years Later

Spring Break is here and I am back! Sorry for the long delay! This chapter is more of an investment if you will on the next chapter, which I hope will be along soon. Again, I don't own anything from Star Wars canon or Dave Wolverton's Rising Force.

Five days later:

"Master Jinn?"

The question broke the silence, sounded strange against the overwhelming pall of grief that greeted Mace Windu when he walked through the door. He almost gasped at the sheer weight of the despair he could feel rolling off of Qui-Gon in waves. His stomach sank into his boots and without quite knowing how, he knew he had come too late.

"I came as soon as I got your message – what happened?" he asked softly. Qui-Gon did not speak immediately – there was a moment of heavy silence and then Qui-Gon answered him, his voice hoarse and strained.

"The bond snapped yesterday. I could feel him getting weaker but – Force, Mace, I didn't think…." Windu gripped the door frame with a suddenly white-knuckled hand.

"He's….?"

"That's the only way it could have… could have broken…." Qui-Gon gave a shuddery gasp of breath and shook his head. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and a small part of Mace's brain wondered when the last time was that the Jedi Master had gotten any sleep. The rest of him, however, was reeling in shock. How could it have happened? How had he… what could have….

"I should have gone after him," Qui-Gon said softly. "I should have landed, explained the situation, and taken off again. No one would have…"

"You couldn't abandon the mission, Qui-Gon," Mace said softly. "You don't even know where they're headed." Qui-Gon gave a hollow laugh.

"I'd say the mission doesn't matter now," he said bitterly. "The entire planet's gone into mourning. The governor's son is dead."

Eight years later:

Two lightsabers hummed in the stillness of the tournament room as the two initiates faced off against each other. One of them was taller than the other, with hair that threatened to be red upon reaching adulthood; the other was blonde and had a determined look on her face. Then, unexpectedly, one of them, the boy, lunged toward the other; the duel was over in a matter of minutes, with Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber resting at Siri's collarbone. He grinned somewhat apologetically; she gave a huff of disgust but bowed with something resembling good grace.

"He has nowhere else to go, Qui-Gon," Mace Windu murmured. The argument had been going for quite some time; since the first of Obi-Wan's matches in fact. "If you don't take him, he'll go to the Agri-Corps. A waste of potential, don't you think?" Qui-Gon Jinn frowned pensively as he watched the next set of initiates pair off and bow.

"I've told you, Mace – I have no desire to take on another student. Not after…" The name remained unspoken but it hung in the air between them anyway. Xanatos. The Padawan Qui-Gon had lost nearly a decade before, and for whose loss he still blamed Yoda and the Council to some degree. "You're lucky, my friend," Qui-Gon said quietly. "You've never felt a bond just vanish…" He trailed off, clearing his throat as if to change the subject. "Surely there are other Masters who would take him?" Mace shook his head.

"None. All of them have Padawans or feel that it's not right somehow. You are the boy's last hope." Mace shifted position slightly, putting a hand on the other Jedi's shoulder. "Qui-Gon, I know you still miss Xanatos; I know you blame the Council for what happened, and perhaps you're right. But for Obi-Wan's sake, will you at least consider it?" Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment. He had felt a certain sense of connection with young Obi-Wan Kenobi; the boy had determination, perseverance, and a strong desire to learn. In some ways he reminded Qui-Gon of Xanatos and yet in others he was so different as to make comparison invalid. And yet…. If he lost another apprentice it would destroy him. Could he really trust himself and the Council enough to take on another student? Then again, what about the boy? Was it fair to him to refuse based on past mistakes?

No. No, it most certainly was not.

"If I do decide to train the boy, I want your word, Mace – yours and the Council's. There will be no interference with the way I train him. He will have a normal apprenticeship, he will take his Trials, and the Council will _not _send us off on a mission based on a groundless suspicion." The words were spoken quietly but there was durasteel in the tone of Qui-Gon's voice; he would not lose another Padawan from the Council's meddling. Mace hesitated for a moment.

"Qui-Gon…" He sighed. The relevance of the Council's decisions a decade ago was not important, and he did not expect young Obi-Wan to cause even a tithe of the trouble that a young Xanatos DelThani had. "You know they never meant for harm to come to either of you. It was a test, nothing more," he said sadly. He shook his head. "I cannot speak for the rest of the Council, but I promise you that should they wish to test Obi-Wan in such a way, I will speak against it." It went without saying that Mace had great influence in the Council; if he spoke against something, the Council would at least listen before making their decision. Qui-Gon studied his friend for another moment and then nodded.

"That will have to do," he acknowledged. "I will speak to Obi-Wan." Mace smiled.

**********************************************************************

"Pay attention, Obi-Wan." The boy at Qui-Gon's side jumped slightly and Qui-Gon turned away to hide the smile forming on his face. He and Obi-Wan had been Master and Padawan for only a few months and were not yet quite used to each other; he found himself glad, however, that Mace had knocked some sense into him. He had missed having a student with him on missions, and Obi-Wan's presence had effectively pulled him out of the sullen, brooding sulk he had indulged in for the past eight years. He firmly pushed away the small, doubting voice at the back of his mind that wondered if taking his apprentice along on this mission was such a good idea and turned toward the large ship waiting for them in the hangar bay. Bandomeer could be a rough place, but they were going there to clear up a simple mining dispute; there was no need for such uneasiness, and he felt no warning about the mission from the Force, only his own lingering misgivings. "Time to board, Padawan. Come along." With that they embarked on their first mission as Master and apprentice.


	3. Miners and Star Pilots

You know, every time I think I'm going to have the next chapter up in under a week, one of two things gets in my way: Darth Real Life or Writer's Block. In this case, both of them sneak-attacked me at the same time. However, I have managed a temporary respite from both of them, and so here is the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own this, although the general plot of the chapter is taken from JA 1.

* * *

The _Monument_ was a typical mining transport ship, which meant that it was dirty, crowded, and built more like the warren of some small animal than a ship on the inside. This environment was perfect for the Arconan miners, whose natural environment was predicated on the many caves of their home-planet. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, six feet tall and feeling every inch of it, was not so sanguine about the low-ceilinged corridors and twisting passages down which he could fully imagine himself or Obi-Wan becoming hopelessly lost.

The mission they'd been sent on seemed fairly simple; suitable for a newly paired team not quite used to each other yet. They were to accompany the founders of the Home Planet Mine and their Offworld competitors to the planet of Bandomeer and ensure that a peaceful settlement was made between the two rival companies. The chief problem lay in the Offworlders' reputation for brutality; people who disagreed with Offworld's policies had an uncanny habit of turning up dead. Qui-Gon had felt the tension aboard the ship before they had even taken off, and the feeling did not improve as the journey got underway. They had settled into their quarters aboard ship and then spent the rest of the day outside them, getting a feel for the relationship between the two groups, and Qui-Gon had spent a great deal of time talking with Clat'Ha, the leader of the Home Planet Mine division.

Qui-Gon, despite every injunction against feeling any particular affinity for either side, liked Clat'Ha. The young Meerian had a down-to-earth, practical approach to life and went about business with a bluntness that was refreshing after what seemed like hours of dancing around the disagreement. The Hutt in charge of the Offworld miners on the other hand was, well… a Hutt. He had an unctuous way of speaking that grated on Qui-Gon's nerves and his small, darting black eyes held a look of cunning that put the Jedi Master on his guard. Jemba, he had been informed, had a nasty reputation; wherever he went disasters seemed to follow, although they never affected Offworld interests, only those of competitors. After speaking with the Offworld representative for just five minutes, Qui-Gon could believe it.

Impossible though it seemed, the leaders of the two mining groups were at each other's throats within the first day of the journey. The gist of the problem was that the Arconan tunneling machines had been sabotaged, their thermocoms stolen and their coring couplers rigged so that they would not disengage. This meant that the machines, which dug into rock and soil, would become overheated and, with the coring couplers rigged, the driver would be unable to shut the machine off, causing meltdown and the death of everyone inside the tunneler. Clat'Ha and Jemba had already had one heated exchange over the matter, and Qui-Gon wanted to avoid another meeting which could lead to outright war between the two sides. For this reason he found himself examining one of the more cramped corners of the ship, looking for something about eight centimeters wide.

He'd had to hold Obi-Wan back from storming into the Offworld side of the ship. The boy was young and every bit as hotheaded as Qui-Gon himself had been at that age; having been raised in the Temple, he did not understand that sometimes justice had to take a back seat to diplomacy.

"_But it would be so easy to find out who was really responsible!" his Padawan had argued._

"_Precisely," Qui-Gon answered. "Easy, but not productive, and not the answer in this case, Padawan." He could still see the rebellion in his apprentice's eyes and, remembering what Xanatos had been like at the same age, he softened. "They probably did take the thermocoms," he said. "But we cannot know that, and even if they did, do you think they would hide them on Offworld territory? Jemba is not so clumsy, nor will he take kindly to us requesting to search his side of the ship." Understanding dawned in Obi-Wan's eyes._

"_He'll think we suspect him," he said. _

"_Exactly," Qui-Gon responded. Obi-Wan frowned._

"_But we do!" he said. Qui-Gon shook his head. _

"_But we must not let him know that," he replied. "Stick to this side of the ship, Obi-Wan."_

Qui-Gon shook himself out of the memory, refocusing on the barrel of spare parts he was currently searching. He had gotten half way through when the door slid open.

"Qui-Gon!" Clat'Ha shouted. "We found them! They were in a barrel of lubricant near the tunnelers. Whoever put them there must not have expected them to be found." Qui-Gon gave a relieved sigh, which was echoed by Obi-Wan.

"Get cleaned up, Padawan," he instructed. "I will meet you at our quarters."

"He can meet us in the lounge," Clat'Ha said. "You look like you could both use a cold drink." Qui-Gon was about to refuse, but a look at Obi-Wan changed his mind; they were both parched after searching the ship all day long and it would do no harm to allow the boy to relax a bit before retiring for the night.

"We'll meet you there," he replied.

* * *

Qui-Gon entered the Arconan lounge to find the place darkened and mostly empty, save for a few Arconans who stood eerily still in the Arconan equivalent of sleep. Clat'Ha was standing at the bar along with Obi-Wan, who was looking not at Clat'Ha but at a man who was sitting on one of the stools. Clat'Ha spotted him first; the Meerian's dark expression lifted somewhat at the sight of him and she waved him over.

"Qui-Gon, good timing," she said. "There's someone here I want you to meet." She gestured toward the man sitting further down the bar, who turned around on his stool. His face was shadowed and yet Qui-Gon had the strangest feeling that he had seen it before, although the features had changed somewhat. The impression was confirmed a moment later. "Qui-Gon Jinn, meet Stieg Wa, miner and…"

"Star pilot extraordinaire?" Qui-Gon asked, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"Do you know each other?"

Stieg Wa's expression was no less dumbfounded than Qui-Gon's; they stared for a moment and then the a grin creased the younger man's face, spreading almost from ear to ear. "Master Jinn?" he asked incredulously. He gave a delighted laugh. "I thought you died for sure ten years ago!" he exclaimed, hopping off his stool.

"I could say the same for you," Qui-Gon observed. "It would seem we were both mistaken." The star pilot did not catch the slight grimace that preceded the smile on Qui-Gon's face; the last time he had seen the pilot had been….

"Master Jinn here was headed to Telos with his apprentice when we ran across those pirates I mentioned," Stieg Wa explained, turning to Clat'Ha. He returned his attention to Qui-Gon. "I didn't thank him for it then but Xanatos was probably the reason that I survived the trip to Kessel. By the way, how is he?" Qui-Gon stiffened.

"He – died, several days after the attack," he said tersely. "Surely you knew?" Stieg Wa's smile faltered and then faded entirely. He seemed shocked for a moment; as if he could not quite comprehend what he had just heard. Slowly, however, the shock faded, replaced by confusion. He shook his head.

"That can't be right," the former pilot said flatly. Qui-Gon frowned, pain and anger warring for supremacy on his leonine face.

"I felt it happen," he said quietly.

Stieg Wa shook his head again, the frown on his face intensifying. "You're wrong, Master Jinn. The kid was alive. I knew he was in bad shape, but he wasn't that bad. Xanatos..."

The room suddenly shook. An explosion sounded from somewhere near the front of the ship, and Stieg Wa's drink slid from the bar, landing with a crash on the floor. Warning sirens wailed.

"Who hit us?" Clat'Ha shouted. Qui-Gon, however, knew better than to think that they'd hit another ship; had that been the case they would all have been dead by now. He could hear the distant _whunk whunk whunk_ of the ship's guns and he and Stieg Wa gave each other a significant look. Qui-Gon strode to the window and held back a curse at the sight that met his eyes.

"Pirates," he announced.


	4. More Pirates

Sorry for the long wait - summer work and a case of writer's block got in the way. In the meantime, however, I've gone back and edited the first chapter - it should make a lot more sense now for anyone who was confused. Anyway, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, and if I did, I would not have been doing grunt work all summer. K?

* * *

They were halfway to the bridge when the shields began to fail. The barrage of fire from the Togorian warships rocked the ship, slamming into the sides with devastating accuracy. The moaning of the Arconans became a high-pitched wail, echoing in Qui-Gon's ears and adding to the nearly intolerable noise-level aboard the ship. A second broadside brought the shields down entirely and knocked the two Jedi and their companions off their feet momentarily. When they struggled to their feet again, they found themselves next to a transparisteel view port. Qui-Gon could see five Togorian warships through the view port, all of them shaped like red birds of prey. Two of them screamed past the port, emitting green bolts of blaster fire as they went. The Monument's guns had fallen silent, and now Qui-Gon could see why – the gun turrets had been blown away. All that remained of them and presumably the crew manning them was burning bits of wreckage. Though fire alarms continued to sound, no one was shouting orders from the bridge – the ship hung dead in space and now a Togorian cruiser raced toward the ship. The direction the cruiser had been headed in meant only one thing – they were about to be boarded.

As if to confirm his conclusion, the fire from the warships ceased. The entire corridor went eerily silent save for the wailing of the fire alarms – the Arconans, terrified, had retreated to their rooms and the rest of the ship's occupants were waiting, tensed. In the few moments left before the pirates were on-board, Qui-Gon turned to his small group.

"We have to wait for them to come aboard," he said tersely. "We can only maneuver once we are certain that the other ships will refrain from firing if only to avoid killing their own men. Clat'Ha, would any of your miners be willing to fight?" The Meerian shook her head.

"They're mainly Arconans. There may be a few willing to try, but I doubt they would get far." Qui-Gon nodded. It was what he had expected, but it never hurt to be sure. They would need all the back-up they could find.

"The Off-Worlders most likely will not suffer from the same reluctance," he observed. "I think we may count on them to hold their own. Above all else, we have to get the ship moving; if we don't do that then we're all dead. Stieg Wa…"

"No worries – I can pilot this thing," the Corellian said. Qui-Gon felt a brief burst of relief – he would not have to send Obi-Wan to pilot the ship, would not have to…

"Some of the crew may still be alive and need help – two people should go," Clat'Ha pointed out. For a brief second, Qui-Gon wanted to round on the Meerian, wanted to tell her to go along if she was so worried about the crew. Another part of him, however, the more reasonable part, knew that she was not the logical one to go. At least one member of the party sent to the bridge should have a lightsaber, and that meant – that meant sending his twelve-year-old Padawan into the exact same situation he had sent Xanatos into and hoping that somehow the Force would protect the second apprentice where it had not protected the first. He closed his eyes for a brief second, his stomach churning at the thought of what he was about to do. There was no choice – Obi-Wan would have to go, and Qui-Gon would have to trust him to come back, preferably in one piece. The situation was not exactly the same – Stieg Wa would be with him and –

"Master?" Qui-Gon opened his eyes only to lock onto Obi-Wan's bright blue gaze. "_Not Xanatos. Not a dingy Corellian freighter. Concentrate on the here and now, Qui-Gon,"_ he thought, centering himself as he did so. He nodded.

"Go, Obi-Wan." The younger Jedi nodded quickly and turned away, running after the already-disappearing Stieg Wa. Qui-Gon turned away at the same time, firmly putting behind him the urge to run after both of them – the miners needed his help. He could already hear the roar of small blasters, which meant that the Togorians were already onboard. They would send more than one boarding party, and with that in mind, he ran in the other direction, down a side corridor and toward the docking bay with Clat'Ha close on his heels.

They did not have to go far. A huge Togorian blocked their way just around the corner, and Qui-Gon just barely managed to dodge as the pirate reached out with his claws to rake the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon drew his lightsaber as he dodged and sliced the Togorian cleanly across the knees. The pirates comrades were right behind him, and they came running at the sound of the first pirate's roar. Clat'Ha, in a blind panic, pulled her blaster and opened fire, bringing down at least one Togorian. The rest returned fire and Qui-Gon dodged two bolts, deflecting others as he rolled away from the first two. He realized with a sinking feeling that this was no minor raiding party – he and Clat'Ha were outnumbered twenty to one. Clat'Ha was an able warrior, but it would be all they could do to stay alive if they didn't do something.

* * *

The door to the bridge was sealed shut and hot to the touch. Stieg Wa took one look at it and swore.

"It's no good trying to open it," he warned Obi-Wan. "That's a fire door – it locks if the bridge is burning." The two looked at each other grimly. They both realized what a fire on the bridge probably meant – the bridge had most likely taken a direct hit, which meant that there was probably a hole in the hull. Depending on the size of the hole, they could both be sucked into space if they opened the door, dooming not only themselves but everyone else on the ship. Obi-Wan remembered the look on Qui-Gon's face as he had given them their orders. If he opened the door, he might doom them; if he didn't, they were all certainly dead.

"We have to get the ship moving," Obi-Wan said. He focused on the door, calming himself as much as possible before he reached out to the Force. He could sense the locking mechanism – it would take only a bit of effort to move it. He concentrated and the door slid open.

A stiff wind knocked him and Stieg Wa in the back. The ship's air whisked past them, headed out into the vacuum of space. "Well that answers that question," the pilot shouted. The bridge had indeed been hit. The hole, however, was not very big; it was about the size of –

"The backup compass!" Stieg Wa shouted. "If I can get to it…" The pilot let go his hold on the doorframe and dropped to the floor, moving from handhold to handhold across the floor. He grabbed hold of the small, spherical compass and, stumbling toward the hull, let go. The compass was sucked immediately into the hole and suddenly the rush of wind from the rest of the ship stopped. "Alright, we're in business!" the pilot shouted. Obi-Wan was already running toward the pilot console; the captain and his copilot were still strapped in, unconscious from lack of air, but still alive. By the same token, however, the lack of air had saved their lives by putting out the fires which had raged through the bridge. Stieg Wa unbuckled the captain and moved him to the floor; he flicked a few switches, glanced at a few of the lights, and then a wide grin split his face. "Hey kid! Take the guns! We're not out of ammo yet!" Obi-Wan glanced at the console and realized that Stieg Wa was right – the forward proton torpedoes were armed and ready. The targeting computer was down but he could still aim manually. Hoping that Qui-Gon had been right and they would not fire on their own men, he aimed for the gun ship and launched the torpedoes.

* * *

Dead Togorians littered the corridor and live Togorians choked the hall ahead, their roaring a deafening cacophony. For a moment Qui-Gon and Clat'Ha were pinned behind the dead, and the Jedi Master found himself wishing for some backup.

"Is there any way we can contact Jemba's men for help?" he asked. Clat'Ha shook her head.

"They wouldn't come," she replied. "We're on our own, I'm afraid." A Togorian pirate captain lunged down the corridor, bursting through the screen of smoke, and Qui-Gon wondered very briefly why it was that he always wound up fighting the giants twice the size of a full grown man. This one was both armed and armored; he carried a vibro-ax in one hand and an energy shield in another. There was a human skull dangling from his belt. His ears were drawn back flat against his skull and his pointed teeth were displayed in a grin. Qui-Gon shifted his grip on the lightsaber slightly and stepped forward to meet it.

"Meet your death, Jedi!" the Togorian pirate roared. "I have hunted your kind before, and I will gnaw your bones tonight!"

The pirates words hit home; it had not been nearly long enough since his last fight with Togorians for Qui-Gon to have truly gotten over what had happened, and the idea that this thing had killed Jedi before sent a wave of cold anger through him. For a brief second it sharpened his focus, and it was in that instant that he realized that the pirates behind their captain were retreating, back toward the hold. He knew there was nowhere to go back there except another access tunnel. He would have to move on the captain quickly if he wanted to be ready for them. Clat'Ha, it seemed, had realized the same thing, for she rushed forward, firing at the Togorian as she went. The pirate raised the shield against her shot, deflecting it easily, and then raised his vibroax, poised and ready to strike. With one fluid movement, Qui-gon positioned himself in front of the Togorian, his lightsaber held in a high guard position.

"You will not be gnawing any bones tonight," he replied in a deadly quiet tone. He leapt at the Togorian, and it was at about that time that the floor rolled out from under them.

* * *

The first blast from the torpedoes had torn away half of the gunship and a second blast had followed as the arsenal had exploded. Part of the gunship hurtled into another Togorian warship, and bits of shrapnel had peppered the Monument's shell. Stieg Wa and Obi-Wan did not wait to see if the pirates would fire back; they were already moving, loading more torpedoes even as the Corellian moved for the thrusters. There was only one problem with that – blasting off would tear both Togorian cruisers off of the docking bays and break the seals on the doors at the same time. Obi-Wan held up a hand.

"Wait! Qui-Gon and Clat'Ha went to hold them off – if you break the seals on the doors…." Stieg Wa shook his head.

"We won't get another chance. We have to move, now." There was a brief silence and then Obi-Wan nodded, hoping that only pirates would get swept out into space.

In the hold, the seals cracked and then peeled away. The floor rocked again; this time the Togorian found his feet before Qui-Gon and the struggling Jedi master just barely jerked his head away from the pirate's axe, taking a hit to his arm instead. Wind screamed through the hold, pulling them backward, but the pirate captain, against all odds and the mounds of debris flying at him, pushed forward. Qui-Gon allowed the wind to pull him closer – if he died, the monster was coming with him. It was the least he could do in memory of whichever Jedi this thing had already killed. He aimed a blow at the captain's feet with his lightsaber, but the pirate evaded the blow, jumping and landing squarely on Qui-Gon's left arm, pinning it. The Jedi twisted desperately, trying to escape, but with his right arm wounded and nearly useless and his left arm pinned, he could do little, and the Togorian knew it. He roared in triumph, ready to finish the Jedi Master off. Qui-Gon braced himself… and then, quite suddenly, the Togorian's head snapped backward. He let go his hold on the overhead cables and was sucked abruptly backward, into the vacuum of space, and Qui-Gon saw Clat'Ha, one hand on the doorframe and the other on her blaster. The Togorian had forgotten about her in the heat of battle – it had been his downfall. Qui-Gon, wounded and weary from the battle, concentrated only the brief moment it took to close the docking bay doors with the Force before passing out, the wind no longer howling in his ears. The battle was over.


	5. Draigons and Whiphids and Hutts, oh my

Chapter five:

The battle may have been over, but the Monument's troubles were far from over. Warning claxons sounded everywhere – monitors showed air leaking from a dozen holes in the hull and the engines sounded rather odd to Obi-Wan's ears.

"We have to land," Stieg Wa announced, his eyes flicking between monitors even as he spoke. He jerked his head toward the nav computer. "Is that thing working?" Obi-Wan shook his head.

"No – we'll have to fly manually," he replied. "Where are the crew?"

"Not up here," Stieg Wa replied, staring out the view screen. "There!" Obi-Wan could just glimpse the planet ahead of them, a blue orb shot through with white clouds.

"How do we know we can breathe the air?" he asked, frowning.

Stieg Wa gave him a pointed look. "I don't think we have a choice, do you?" he asked, gesturing to the monitors in front of them. The ship shuddered as if to emphasize his point and another warning siren went off, signaling that air pressure aboard the ship was dropping. Obi-Wan nodded, and they began the descent to the planet.

The descent turned out to be more of a controlled crash. They flew over a watery world, going from daylight into darkness. The night was lit by five moons, and by the light they reflected Obi-Wan could see enormous creatures traveling in flocks. They were silvery in the moonlight, with long bullet-shaped bodies and large, powerful wings which were stretched wide. They seemed to be half-asleep as they rode the air currents. Some of them looked up at the ship curiously. Stieg Wa frowned – it was evident that he did not like the look of the creatures. The ship was bucking and rattling as they came closer to the surface of the planet, and it seemed as though they might land in the water, until a small island became visible on the horizon. They crashed to a halt a few meters from the shore of the island, just short of the high cliffs that rose above them like a wall out of the sand.

*******************************************

Back at the Temple:

"Qui-Gon still does not trust us."

Yoda harrumphed at Mace Windu's statement. "A long memory, Qui-Gon has. Loved Xanatos like a son, he did."

"Are you certain it was wise to send them to Bandomeer?"

"Ask for Qui-Gon do you, or for young Obi-Wan?" the diminutive green Jedi asked ironically. Mace bowed his head.

"Perhaps for both," he admitted. Yoda sighed.

"Trust, they must build. Proof must Qui-Gon have that mean him harm, we do not," he said. He frowned, leaning heavily upon his gimmer stick. "Failed him, we did," he admitted quietly. "Failed them both. The loss of one, bad enough, but the loss of both…."

"We did not lose both," Mace reminded him quietly. Yoda looked at him with pained eyes.

"Lost, Xanatos should not have been," he answered equally softly. "Doubted him, I did – sent him to Telos to test his allegiances. Right, Qui-Gon is – sent, he should not have been."

"You could not have known that he would be killed," Mace said, frowning.

"No," Yoda said, tapping his gimmer stick against the floor. "Danger I sensed, but thought it came from Xanatos, not to him. Allowed my doubts to cloud my perceptions. Allowed him to die." The diminutive Jedi sighed, turning away to look out the window at the Coruscant skyline. The two Jedi Masters lapsed into silence, considering, never knowing how right Yoda had been and how wrong.

*******************************

Under other circumstances the draigons might have been beautiful. If, for instance, Qui-Gon Jinn hadn't been hanging on to a nearly sheer cliff face outside their caves inching his way upwards while trying to blend in with the rock, he might have appreciated their savage and deadly grace. As it stood though, he had found himself in that exact situation and he was Not Amused.

They had landed on the planet during the night, and it was a lucky thing too, for the creatures apparently hunted during the day and perched on the cliffs or slept on the wing at night. Once the atmosphere had been deemed stable, a dozen of the crew members had gone out to begin repairs on the hull and, work being impossible during the day, the ship's engineer had reported that it would take two nights to get the ship running.

Qui-Gon himself had known of this only through Obi-Wan's report – the Jedi Master had been confined to his cabin in the aftermath of the battle and had had to wait for the medic droid to patch him up. Obi-Wan had arrived in his master's cabin just as the droid finished spraying a disinfectant bandage over the wound and began to glue it shut.

"Master…" he had started to say uncertainly. He had thought he'd felt pain through their bond, but he had been distracted and unable to focus on what he had felt, and so it was something of a shock to see that Qui-Gon was wounded as badly as he was. The older Jedi gave a rather tight smile that was more like a grimace.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he assured, beckoning his apprentice closer with his good arm.

"You are lucky to be alive," the medic droid said sharply, finishing its work. "But your wounds should heal with time. Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?" Qui-Gon shook his head.

"I'll be alright," he said firmly. He turned to Clat'Ha, who was still hovering around the perimeter. She had refused to leave his side until his wounds were tended to, and she looked as dead on her feet as Obi-Wan felt. "Now will you please get some rest?" the Jedi Master asked with some asperity. She nodded.

"I'll check back later," she said. Qui-Gon turned to his Padawan as she left with the medic droid. He studied him for a moment. Obi-Wan had never killed before today – Qui-Gon knew all too well the toll it could take.

"When you fired on the pirates, what were your thoughts?" he asked after a moment. Obi-Wan frowned.

"Thoughts?" he asked. "I wasn't thinking much of anything. I knew we had to get away from the pirates and to do that meant that I had to fire on them."

"Were you frightened? Angry?"

"Both," Obi-Wan admitted. "I… fired on the pirates. I killed, but I didn't do it in anger. I did it to save lives." Qui-Gon nodded, satisfied. It was the answer he had been looking for – it demonstrated that Obi-Wan was growing stronger in the Force.

"You did well, Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly. Obi-Wan flashed him a tired but grateful smile. The boy was all but swaying on his feet, and at last Qui-Gon took pity on him. "Get some rest," he ordered. Obi-Wan nodded wearily – he was about to turn and leave when a harried pounding sounded at the door. Si Treemba, the Arconan youth who had discovered the tunneler malfunction, stood outside the door, breathing heavily.

"Please come quickly," he panted. "Jemba the Hutt has stolen our dactyl!"

They had soon discovered that Jemba, in his all-consuming greed, had stolen the mineral compound the Arconans needed to eat in order to survive. What Jemba had not counted on, however, was the evacuation of the ship the next morning due to the rising tide. It had not taken Qui-Gon long to put two and two together to come up with the location of the dactyl – one of the caves on the cliff face above them was giving off a faint yellow mist, just the color of the missing mineral substance. While the others had evacuated the ship, Qui-Gon had made his way up the cliff face to retrieve the stolen dactyl, which was how he had come to be hanging onto the rocks with the tips of his fingers, hoping not to attract the notice of the circling draigons below.

A flash of light above his head sent splinters of rock raining down on him, stinging the portions of him left exposed by the robe he wore. For a second he thought that lightning had struck somewhere close before realizing that the striking point was too small. A blaster bolt. Someone was shooting at him!

In the next instant, blaster bolts surrounded him. Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon could see Whiphids, shooting haphazardly from the rocks nearby him. Of course, Qui-Gon was not the only one - the draigons could also see them, and the flock turned with hungry shrieks toward the source of the noise.


	6. Questions and Answers

The Arconans looked ill. They were slowly becoming sick as the hours wore on, and Obi-Wan, confined to the caves with the rest of the refugees from the ship, could do nothing about it.

He felt a wave of frustration rise up within him. It was torture in and of itself to watch the Arconans suffer and know that he could do nothing more than wait for Qui-Gon to return with the dactyl. The fact that the Jedi Master had gone off alone was another point for Obi-Wan to be frustrated about – would it have killed Qui-Gon to have asked for help?

Obi-Wan frowned. There was a dimension to his Master that he did not understand. He had first noticed it aboard the ship when he had been sent to the bridge with Stieg Wa. Qui-Gon had been almost reluctant to send him, almost… fearful, if such a thing were possible for a full-grown, experienced Jedi Master. He could have sworn that for just a moment, Qui-Gon teetered close to refusing to let him go before deciding that there was no other course. He did not understand this refusal on his Master's part to trust him – but it was more than that. There was something else, some other reason for his Master's reluctance to send Obi-Wan out alone. Genuine anxiety had flashed over their bond for a moment, and though the pirate attack was undoubtedly dangerous, Obi-Wan had been headed _away_ from the fighting. No – there was most definitely a reason other than mistrust behind Qui-Gon's actions, but Obi-Wan had no idea what that reason might be.

"Focus on the present." Qui-Gon's constant reminder seemed to drift across his mind, and he resolved to follow the advice for the moment – speculation would only distract him from the mission and could cost him the focus necessary to aid his Master should he need it. He had no idea how much trouble Qui-Gon was in right at that moment.

**********************************************

Qui-Gon took advantage of the Whiphids' momentary distraction to pull himself the rest of the way up the cliff face and into the small cave. He rested there a moment, clutching his sore right arm and panting from exertion. The scent of sulfur and ammonia was overwhelming – the dactyl crystals had been thrown on the floor of the cave and were glowing yellow.

The blaster fire was coming as fast as ever. The guns made a steady booming noise, but the shots were no longer directed at him – instead the Whiphids had turned to firing at the descending draigons. Several of the great creatures had collapsed on the rocks around the Whiphids, but more were wheeling from the skies, reminding Qui-Gon of nothing so much as a flock of feeding birds. The draigons' screams were piercing as they dove toward the rocks, swiveling their heads almost casually to snatch another Whiphid from between the rocks. Qui-Gon winced ever so slightly as he loaded the dactyl crystals into the cloth sack he had brought – the Whiphids' terrified screams were gut-wrenching. For several minutes the sounds of blaster fire intermingled with the sounds of the draigons' cries and the Whiphids' screams.

Suddenly, a huge shadow blocked the light coming into the cave. A draigon shrieked, a cry so piercing that the rock around Qui-Gon trembled. He pressed himself against the side of the cave. Outside the mouth of the cave, the draigon responsible for the deafening sound clutched the rock with its wing talons. It let out the piercing cry again and Qui-Gon knew it was no use. He had been seen. And, as if the situation were not bad enough already, the draigon's cry had alerted others. They vied for position as the first draigon wedged its long head into the cave opening. Teeth flashed near the Jedi Master's face and the smell of dead fish filled the cave, overpowering even the stench of the dactyl.

The Force, Qui-Gon concluded, had an odd sense of humor. It had gotten him attacked by pirates no less than twice, nearly gotten him shot, he was about to be eaten, and on top of all that, he could feel Obi-Wan calling him. Nor was his Padawan simply worried about his Master and trying to confirm his whereabouts – the call was urgent and not to be ignored. He had no time to wonder how he was going to get to his Padawan, for at that moment, he heard movement at the cave opening. For a moment the draigon beat its wings against the stone, blocking the entrance, and then it suddenly dropped from its rather precarious perch.

Qui-Gon had followed the ways of the Force all his life, and now it was positively screaming at him. Run, it commanded. Go to Obi-Wan. He did not hesitate – he ran three steps and leaped from the mouth of the cave, his heart in his throat, knowing that two hundred meters below, the sharp rocks stuck up like spikes. He fell perhaps a dozen meters… and landed straight on top of a draigon. His fingers clung to its scales almost automatically and, his sore shoulder throbbing, he pulled himself up and onto the draigon's back. The confused creature shrieked, shook its neck, and then wheeled in panic, trying to throw him off. Qui-Gon was suddenly grateful for all of the "pathetic life-forms" that his Master had so disagreed with and which Xanatos had tolerated with ill grace – their minds had not been so dissimilar to the draigon's. With all the power he could muster, he latched onto the creature's mind and directed it toward the caves near the foot of the cliff. Its flock mates, however, had heard the cries of his reluctant steed, and called out to each other, chasing after them, right toward the caves. He called out with his mind, warning Obi-Wan of the danger. Then he waited as the draigon he was riding wafted downward toward a narrow ledge near the edge of the caves. He picked his moment and jumped off the draigon, releasing the creature's mind, and it flew off with a soft, confused cry. Qui-Gon no sooner reached the cave mouths than Obi-Wan ran out, lightsaber already ignited and held high in front of him. It seemed that Obi-Wan had gotten his warning, for the boy looked up immediately, scanning the sky which was suddenly full of hungry draigons.

Obi-Wan had thought waiting for his Master in the cave had been difficult. When he looked upward, though, he knew that the hard part had just begun. Scores of draigons blocked the sun, and every single one of them was headed toward the caves. Then he noticed Qui-Gon heading toward him, looking battered and bloody but still alive.

"Master…" he started to say, then thought better of it. Qui-Gon no doubt knew what he looked like at the moment and there wasn't much they could do about it. "Did you get the dactyl?" he asked instead.

Qui-Gon nodded. "The Arconans?" he asked.

"Still alive, but barely. You go; I'll hold the mouth of the cave."

For a split second, Obi-Wan expected him to argue. There was a moment's hesitation, a flash of decision… and then Qui-Gon nodded, giving his young apprentice a look of respect and acceptance.

"I will return," he promised, and, to his apprentice's surprise, rushed past Obi-Wan into the caves.

He encountered no resistance until he met Jemba himself, such was the look of purpose on his face as he strode toward the Arconans.

"Halt!" the enormous Hutt ordered. "Where are you going?" Qui-Gon stared evenly at Jemba.

"You had better get your guards to the mouths of the caves," he warned. "We're in trouble."

Jemba laughed. "Your foolish pupil already tried that trick!" he said, looking incredulous. The look did not last long though, for at that moment a draigon roared near the mouth of the tunnels. The cave trembled – dust shook loose from the roof and covered everyone standing in the cave with a light coating of brown.

"It has started," Qui-Gon said, and shouldered past Jemba to get the dactyl to the Arconans.

At the cave mouth, Obi-Wan was under siege. He was not afraid – the Force swirled around him as it had never done before, warning him of the flick of a tail or the flash of a talon before it ever happened. The draigons' muscles seemed to be incredibly defined, making their minutest movement easy to discern and avoid. However, Obi-Wan knew that he was tiring – there were simply too many of them for him to handle on his own, perhaps too many for any of them to take on. Unless he got help, and soon, he was going to be overwhelmed. He had just finished working out that rather pessimistic estimation of his predicament when an idea came to him. He could not take on all the draigons, but he could use the bodies of the ones he slew to cover the mouth of the cave, making that particular tunnel safe. If they could cover enough of the entrances, they might just have a chance. Emboldened by this idea, Obi-Wan began to move backward, luring the draigons closer to the cave mouth. He had no sooner gone five steps, though, before he heard an ominous, rumbling laugh behind him.

"Well done, young Jedi!" Jemba the Hutt boomed. Obi-Wan took only a second to look over his shoulder – Jemba was holding a blaster.

"Help me!" the younger of the two Jedi urged. It would be so easy for Jemba to shoot some of the creatures – it would fill the cave mouth that much faster. Jemba, however, was not so sensible.

"I'll help you," he said, leveling the blaster at Obi-Wan. "To death!" Obi-Wan sensed the blaster bolt coming from behind him before he consciously registered that he was in danger, and in the instant he sensed it he moved. From the rocks in front of the cave, there was a flash of light, and then Jemba the Hutt slumped, dead, having received a shot to the hearts from his own henchman, for while the Whiphids might have given up on shooting the Jedi, Grelb, Jemba's henchman had not. However, the blaster bolt had attracted some unwanted attention – in the next instant, Grelb screamed as a hungry draigon dragged him from underneath the rocky overhang, biting into him with its sharp teeth. At the same time, Obi-Wan just barely dodged the swipe of another draigon's talons.

"That was a little too close, I think," a deep voice said from behind him. Qui-Gon stepped forward to stand next to his apprentice. "You look like you could use some help."

Obi-Wan's plan worked – within hours, they had most of the cave openings filled with dead draigons and the rest, seeing what was happening to their compatriots, finally flew off toward nightfall. It was only after the battle was over that Qui-Gon got a chance to rest, and considerably longer after that when he was reminded of Stieg Wa's presence.

The Jedi was sitting on one of the rocky projections littering the cave floor, having his injuries patched up yet again when the pilot made his way over.

"Seems like every time we meet I wind up in trouble up to my eyebrows," Stieg Wa said lightly. "Are all Jedi this prone to falling into a nest of gundarks every five parsecs?" Qui-Gon laughed wearily.

"I'm told some lead quiet lives," he said dryly. "It may just be a rumor though." Stieg Wa sat down next to the injured Jedi Master and gave an impressed whistle when he saw some of the freshest lacerations. Qui-Gon turned to regard him with a considering expression.

"It seems to me that you were about to tell me something when our latest mess began," he said. Stieg Wa frowned.

"Was I?" he asked. "We were in the canteena – I had asked about Xanatos and you – oh. You said he had died..."

"And you said I was wrong. Care to explain?" Stieg Wa looked askance at Qui-Gon and more specifically at the reopened, gaping wound on Qui-Gon's shoulder blades.

"Master Jinn… I'm not sure you want to be hearing about this, not in the shape you're in. Especially not with Squirt here listening in." He gave a nod toward Obi-Wan, who was making his way over to his Master, looking thoroughly exhausted but satisfied.

"The Arconans are recovering nicely," he reported. "Even the sickest of them are getting up." Qui-Gon nodded wearily.

"Why don't you get some rest, Padawan?" he asked. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"I think I'll meditate for a while, Master," he answered. "That battle… I've never been able to feel the Force like that before. It was… incredible." Qui-Gon nodded and smiled.

"That might be a good idea," he acknowledged. "Not too long though, Obi-Wan. You'll need to be able to walk out of here." Obi-Wan bowed his head and walked away. Qui-Gon turned back to Stieg Wa. "Tell me," he ordered.

Stieg Wa took a deep breath. "Xanatos couldn't have died aboard that ship, Master Jinn," he said bluntly.

"Why not?" Qui-Gon pressed, feeling his heart rate rise. If he could find out what had happened, it would at least give some closure to what had been an open wound for the last eight years.

"I don't know where you got the idea that Xanatos died on that ship, Master Jinn, but you're wrong," the pilot said bluntly. "I know the kid looked pretty bad by the time we got to Kessel but he was alive; I made sure a' that before they took me off." Qui-Gon frowned in confusion.

"Masters share a bond with their apprentices, Captain – we can tell when something is wrong or… we can tell," he said.

"Well then maybe your bond wasn't working right, because the kid was alive when we got to Kessel five days later," Stieg Wa insisted. "I wouldn't be here if he hadn't persuaded those pirates to leave me alone."

Qui-Gon looked down, troubled by what he had just heard. He had been ready to find the flaw in Stieg Wa's reasoning before now, but the conviction with which the former pilot spoke could not be ignored. "Tell me what happened," he ordered.

Stieg Wa nodded. "The kid got thrown in the brig not too long after I did. I'd been thinking he'd sabotaged the shield generator on the ship but I guess he hadn't or he wouldn't have been in that cell. He was out for a long time – I remember worrying if he'd wake up at all, because he'd taken a pretty big whack on the head. He finally came around though – swore a blue streak when he did, too. Anyway, I don't know how he did it, but the kid managed to convince them to leave us alone for the most part instead of using us for target practice or worse, at least for a while. On about the third day though…" Stieg Wa took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Xanatos was tough, I'll give him that. On the third day he tried to escape. Said something about his Trials and that he couldn't let the mission fail because of some stupid pirate raid. Of course he got caught. The pirate Captain… he said he didn't have any special equipment to handle Jedi, but he reckoned a good enough beating would knock the fight out of anyone, and he was right. By the time they brought him back…." The pilot shook his head. "He was out cold for at least a day. I took care of him as much as I could and then, when he did wake up, he wouldn't say a word to me. Wouldn't answer questions, didn't do anything except eat what they gave him and stare at the wall like he could see right through it. I left him alone after a while – I figured he was angry or embarrassed about getting caught. He stayed like that the rest of the trip. Didn't so much as look up when they took me out of there. I don't think he even heard me leave."

Qui-Gon frowned. "I felt the bond break on the fourth day," he murmured. "Are you sure it took you five days? The brig of a ship is not…"

"Listen, Master Jinn, I've made the trip to Kessel enough times from every part of the galaxy to know how long it takes and from the Telos region it takes just about five days; it might even have been six with that barge the Togorians called a ship," the pilot said. "Whatever else the Togorians might have done, Xanatos was alive when they were through with him."

*********************

Some answers and more questions! R and R please.


	7. Of Jedi and Businessmen

Anybody out there? Anybody? *Crickets chirp* Guess not. Oh well.

_**********************************************_

_Xanatos was alive when they were through with him._

The phrase reverberated in Qui-Gon's head over and over again, disrupting his focus and making meditation impossible. He had lived. He had not died – or at least he had still been breathing when Stieg Wa had left him. He could not ignore the conviction in the man's voice, nor could he reconcile his own certainty as to Xanatos' fate with what the pilot had seen. Stieg Wa had been telling the truth – the Force had confirmed that much. And somewhere deep down, a spark had been kindled, a small part of him that wanted to do a jig and then go tearing off on the new trail that had been presented.

He curbed the impulse sternly. It was not possible. The bond had broken – he knew as well as anyone what that meant, and he could not conceive of a way that the Force could have lied to him on this all-important point. Xanatos was dead – but then how had Stieg Wa seen him still living on the fifth day after the attack? Could he have been mistaken? Could Xanatos have been killed after Stieg Wa left the ship? Hyperspace did odd things to one's perception of time, but Stieg Wa was an experienced pilot and, he had said, not injured badly enough to have passed out, let alone lost track of a full day. Could Qui-Gon himself have been mistaken? He had felt the bond break, certainly, but had it truly been on the fourth day? Perhaps it had taken him longer to limp the ship down to Telos than he had thought? _"Xanatos was alive when they were through with him."_ The cycle of questions led back exactly where he had started from and he groaned silently in frustration. What in the Force's name had really happened?

His frustration must have leaked through the bond, because Obi-Wan, seated next to him, opened his eyes suddenly and shot his Master a look of concern.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. Qui-Gon sighed.

"Not per se," he answered Obi-Wan studied him for a moment and Qui-Gon got a sudden, disconcerting sense of being seen through – he could only hope that his Padawan never, never joined the Council. It was bad enough having Master Yoda do that to him. The moment passed and Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, seeming to gather his nerve.

"Master, perhaps it's not my place to say this but you seem… troubled." There, he'd said it. Qui-Gon's mouth twisted in displeasure momentarily before evening out. Obi-Wan had a point – he had allowed his focus to be splintered and turned from the mission at hand. He had not been following his own advice to live in the moment.

"You could say that," he allowed. He gave an aggravated huff at his own preoccupation.

"What…?" Obi-Wan started to ask, but Qui-Gon held up a hand.

"I'm afraid I've been rather… distracted," he admitted. "I received some information that I was not expecting to hear and… well, never mind. At least one of us must remain focused." Obi-Wan frowned. He was not as unobservant as all that – he knew that there was something that Qui-Gon was not telling him, and his Master's lack of candidness made him uneasy.

"Was it something about the mission, Master?" he asked. Qui-Gon shook his head.

"No. As I said, it should not concern you, Padawan." Obi-Wan looked ready to argue, but the pilot's landing announcement forestalled any further questions. "Time to go," Qui-Gon said lightly, leaving a slightly disgruntled Obi-Wan to follow after him.

* * *

Crion DelThani watched the two Jedi disembark with an acerbic expression on his face. Fate, he concluded sourly, was both sick and twisted to have sent him exactly the Jedi he did not wish to see to settle the mining dispute.

The company should, he thought, have been in Xanatos's hands at this point in his life. Had things gone as he had planned them so long ago, he would have been the head of a thriving empire and Xanatos his heir, second only to him in its management. As a wise person once said, however, the quickest way to make the Gods laugh was to tell them your plans for life, and Crion had found the saying all too true. Xanatos was dead. The older DelThani remained the sole head of the Offworld Corporation, and now, of all the Force-forsaken jokes to play, Fate chose to send Qui-Gon Jinn to negotiate the dispute.

"Sir – the Jedi…" Crion waved a hand dismissively.

"I know," the aging former ruler of Telos said.

"Very good, sir," the aide acknowledged. "Your meeting will begin in twenty minutes. Is there anything…?" Crion shook his head.

"No," he replied, "that will be all." The aide, Telosian by birth, bowed more out of habit than actual necessity and left the room. The corners of Crion's mouth twisted upward in a bitter smirk. He had only one consolation – the knowledge that Qui-Gon Jinn would undoubtedly be just as unhappy about this as he was.

* * *

*Author looks vaguely confused* I'm not exactly sure how Crion DelThani worked his way into this story, but somehow, he has. I had been ready to do something completely different with this chapter, and then Xanatos's father just randomly showed up and I realized that I had left him alive when I had meant to kill him off-camera so to speak. So there he is and I must say that he's every bit as stubborn as his son and twice as conniving in some ways, or he wouldn't be here to begin with. *Mumbles something about reinforcing the fourth wall after this* Anyway, please read and review!


	8. Crion DelThani

So, after the most brutal semester of my college career so far, I have returned, and somehow managed to beat Writer's Block into submission. Here is the next chapter, complete with intrigue and villainy.

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_Everything hurt. His back was on fire; he could feel every blow of the whip acutely, and he had long since given up on trying not to scream. Blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten through his lip in an attempt to stay silent. The worst, however, was not over – he could feel hot breath behind him and then he heard menacing laughter. _

_"Don't damage the merchandise too much," one of the Togorians said with a leer. "He'll fetch a good price on Nar Shadaa. He'll be pretty when they clean him up." _

_He froze. He could feel a shudder that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with fear go right through him, seeming to originate somewhere in his newly-twisting stomach. __**No. No no no no no no no no**__. This was not happening – he had not just heard those words – the Togorian's paw darted out, gripping his chin and forcing him to lift his head, and he knew that this was no nightmare. He was not to be taken to Kessel – he would not die in the mines. That, however, would have been preferable to what they intended. His blood ran cold and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the pirates' laughter. He would not let this happen – he could not. He reached out to the Force with what strength remained to him…_

Qui-Gon Jinn awoke with a jolt, breathing hard. This was the third night in a row that he had had that particular dream, and it was getting worse with every repetition. The first had been merely an impression of pain and the sound of Togorian laughter. The next night the details of the scene had become clearer, and now, tonight…. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to regain his equilibrium. The dream had seemed so real – as if it were he himself who had been tortured, he who had reached out to the Force in desperation. Almost unconsciously, he checked the training bond he shared with Obi-Wan and found that the younger Jedi was still sleeping, thankfully much more peacefully than Qui-Gon had been able to. The Jedi Master frowned, still pondering the recurrent dream. Although he was not generally subject to visions, he knew them when he had them, but this dream was different. Visions, for one thing, normally involved the future, not the past. Furthermore, visions were usually from his own perspective, not that of another. He rolled off the sleep couch and onto his feet. The dream had been unsettling; he had not felt so helpless in years and he did not like the feeling. He shivered. He had a disturbing feeling that he knew whose eyes he had been seeing through and wondered why such a dream would come to him now, nearly a decade too late for him to do anything about it.

With a glance at Obi-Wan, he padded over to the window and stared out of it. Dawn had not yet broken on Bandomeer and the planet's surface appeared dark. The trees that blanketed the ground swayed slightly in the breeze. For a brief moment, Qui-Gon allowed the living energy of the planet to wash over him and soothe the horror and pain of the nightmare. It had to be a dream, no matter how real it seemed. Just a dream, brought on by Stieg Wa's news and Crion's presence on the planet.

He had hardly believed what he was seeing when Crion DelThani came striding into the meeting room. For a moment the Jedi Master was reminded sharply and painfully of Xanatos. Crion held himself in exactly the same way that his son had – shoulders back, head held high, confident and, in Crion's case, supremely arrogant. He was thin, just as Xanatos had been, and his blue eyes were only half a shade lighter than his son's had been. His hair had gained a few strands of grey in the past ten years, and for that Qui-Gon was grateful – he was not sure he would have been able to look at the former Governor of Telos without wincing otherwise. At that moment, however, Crion's gaze met his own and Qui-Gon suddenly knew that Crion would be very easy to disassociate from his memories of Xanatos, for where Xanatos's gaze had most often been warm if a trifle sardonic, Crion's had nothing of warmth about it.

Qui-Gon was the one who had found Xanatos the first time. It was Qui-Gon who had taken the midichlorian count and Qui-Gon who had brought the child back to the Temple for training. At the time, he had thought it the right decision, and, no doubt, so had Crion. There were times, however, after his apprentice's death, when Qui-Gon had questioned his decision to take Xanatos away from his father. Those times usually came in the dead of night, but Qui-Gon had never questioned his decision more than he did right now. Should he, perhaps, have listened more closely to his instincts? Should he have listened to the small voice within him that had hesitated? The decision would have been different, certainly, if he had. Xanatos would not have been trained, but neither would he have been dead at the age of twenty. The same train of thought seemed to have traveled through Crion's mind, because the former Governor had done little but scowl for the entire duration of the meeting. No – no, that was a lie. He had done little but scowl and make life difficult for Qui-Gon and the representatives of the Home Planet Mine, seemingly out of spite more than any actual objection to the proposed solutions to the dispute. The Jedi Master frowned, breaking off his impromptu meditation session at the window and turning away. He had little doubt that today would be no different from the day before, and he was not looking forward to another day spent arguing fruitlessly. What in the galaxy had the Council been thinking when they had sent him and Obi-Wan to settle this particular dispute?

Obi-Wan stirred on his sleep couch and Qui-Gon could feel his apprentice wake, though he did not open his eyes. He sighed, putting aside the question of Xanatos and the dream. "Time to get up, Padawan," he said.

They recessed for lunch at around mid-day. The food at the consulate's cafeteria was not by any means the best Obi-Wan had ever had, but after the bland fare offered on the _Monument_ he was not prepared to quibble about it. Nor, it seemed, was Qui-Gon, who was engaged in the noble and, in this case, essential sport of people-watching. Obi-Wan observed with some amusement as his Master's eyes flickered back and forth between bites of whatever they were eating.

"Anything interesting?" he inquired. Qui-Gon refocused on the table and flashed his Padawan a brief smile.

"Nothing unexpected," he replied, "although if this deal does not go through soon, things could heat up fairly quickly." He frowned, reflecting on the fact that events were indeed shaping up that way. Obi-Wan chewed his lip for a moment before speaking again. He did not want to be forward, but if it concerned the mission, surely his Master could not fault him for asking, could he?

"Master, why does Lord DelThani seem to hate our presence so much?" There, the question was out. Obi-Wan held his breath for a second only to let it out again when Qui-Gon merely gave him a surprised look followed by a grim smile.

"You've picked up on it, then," he replied. Obi-Wan nodded. The Jedi Master sighed.

"I suppose you were bound to ask eventually in any case," he said. "To tell the truth, Padawan, it has less to do with us as Jedi and more to do with me in particular, or so I suspect." Obi-Wan sat forward, intrigued and grateful to finally be told what was going on. "You probably know that I've had one other apprentice," Qui-Gon continued. Obi-Wan nodded again. He had indeed heard of Qui-Gon's previous apprentice – the entire Temple had gone into a kind of subdued mourning when Master Jinn's first padawan had died on a mission and he remembered well the eerie quiet that had descended in the days following. "You may have guessed that Crion and I have crossed paths before. You see, he…" But at this point, Qui-Gon broke off. "Speaking of whom," he murmured before standing. "Lord DelThani," he said, and Obi-Wan realized with a start that the man himself was standing behind Obi-Wan's chair. He looked up; two sets of blue eyes locked for a second and Obi-Wan saw something flicker in Crion's gaze, a hint of… unease? Sorrow? In the next instant though the look was gone, replaced by a politician's mask of ennui.

"Master Jinn – no need to stand on ceremony," he drawled. Qui-Gon, however, did not sit and Crion merely raised an eyebrow. "We are preparing to reconvene. I trust you will be able to find your way back to the Council chamber?" There was a hidden barb somewhere in Crion's polite inquiry, but Obi-Wan could not place his finger on it.

"My apprentice and I will find our way, I'm sure," Qui-Gon replied. His tone was wary, testing to find out what Crion was up to.

"Yes, I saw that you'd found yourself a replacement," Crion said carelessly. "A word to the wise, young Jedi – you would do well to be careful being Master Jinn's apprentice. His sense of direction is a tad faulty and he tends to, ah… shall we say, lose people?" His tone was teasing but there was no mirth in his expression and the blue eyes seemed to burn. There was a brief staring contest and then Crion turned on his heel. "I shall see you in the Council chambers," he called over his shoulder. Qui-Gon did not answer – instead, he stared at Crion's disappearing back, his eyes teeming with an emotion Obi-Wan could not readily identify, before he closed them and took a long, deep breath. When he opened them again, there was only a lingering weariness and a hint of resignation.

"Come along, Padawan," he said, gathering their trays and turning away. Obi-Wan forbore to question him; it was evident that he would not be getting his answer any time soon.

********************************************

The proceedings of the day ended just after dusk.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had returned to their room at the diplomatic consulate, such as it was, and Qui-Gon sat on the floor, deep in meditation. Obi-Wan, far less accustomed to the rigors of a mission, had turned in early, leaving his Master to sort through his frustration.

He had not seen Crion after Xanatos's death – the Governor and Qui-Gon had both been immersed in their grief, and Crion had flatly refused to have anything to do with the Jedi Master who had taken his son away from him in the first place. The years had not been kind, Qui-Gon thought grimly. There were new lines on Crion's face that had been etched by grief and weariness – Qui-Gon recognized them chiefly because the same had been engraved on his own face since the death of his apprentice. For all of his seeming decline, however, Crion was still just as wily and vindictive as Qui-Gon had always known him to be. Essentially, the man had not changed since he had plotted to take over a neighboring planet and nearly succeeded. If anything, he had grown worse – his reasons for refusing settlement were all sound on the surface, but Qui-Gon knew that at least some of what the older man had said concerning his company was exaggerated. He also knew just what was causing the hold-up in the discussions – Crion had made that eminently clear during the luncheon break. What was worse was that Qui-Gon could do nothing to change the man's enmity toward him or the Jedi. Frowning, he reached out to the Force, seeking some hint of guidance. He was, in fact, so deep in his meditation that he did not notice when Obi-Wan slipped out the door.

It was not that he meant to defy his Master, Obi-Wan thought guiltily. He had truly intended to go to bed. When he got there, however, he found that he could not sleep, dwelling instead on the events of the day and on one event in particular. What in the name of the Force had Crion been talking about?

"_You would do well to be careful being Master Jinn's apprentice… he tends to, ah, shall we say – lose people?"_ The words reverberated in his head, feeding his curiosity until he could no longer stand to simply lay in bed thinking about it. Thus, he found himself wandering the corridors of the diplomatic consulate until he came, quite by accident, to the gardens.

It was curious, he thought, that a building on a planet so verdant should bother with gardens; surely any urge for greenery would be fulfilled simply by walking out the door. Then again, the surface seemed to be populated almost exclusively by a limited number of species – the gardens were more likely designed to fulfill some aesthetic lack. The more he wandered, the more the impression was confirmed. There were plants growing here that he had never seen even in the Temple gardens, where he had thought every kind of plant known was cultivated. He wandered aimlessly, observing the plant life with no real thought for direction. He was not, therefore, aware of Crion's presence until he nearly ran into the man and he tensed, instantly and inexplicably wary at the sight of the man leaning against a low wall. Crion looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before speaking.

"Your Master ought to keep a closer eye on you, young Jedi," he remarked quietly. "No doubt you have been told this planet can be dangerous after dark?"

"I – could not sleep," Obi-Wan replied uneasily. There was something about Crion's gaze that he simply did not fully trust – as if he were being eyed up by a hungry nexu. Something roiled beneath the surface of Crion's eyes that Obi-Wan did not understand – a strange mix of pain and anger that made Obi-Wan deeply nervous. The Force was quiet – there was no warning, and yet… Crion frowned, leveling a considering look at Obi-Wan. After a brief moment, he looked away.

"As you will," he said shortly. He turned away, and Obi-Wan did not hesitate to do the same. He had not taken two steps, however, before Crion spoke again. "I was not jesting earlier, Padawan Kenobi," he said. "You should not look to Jinn for protection from the universe. He will let you down… as he has others." Obi-Wan turned.

"Others?" Crion stared, incredulous for only a second before incredulity turned to cynicism. He turned away, facing toward the greenery again.

"Of course…" he murmured. "He would not have told you about his previous apprentice, would he?" Obi-Wan felt a chill go down his spine and he shifted, now deeply unnerved.

"His previous apprentice?" he questioned, feeling himself slightly foolish and highly repetitive suddenly. Crion turned back, and this time there was genuine pain in his eyes.

"His previous apprentice. The one he left to die. My son."


	9. Things Fall Apart

2 a.m. – The Consulate Building

Obi-Wan made his way back to his room in a daze. He did not notice that Qui-Gon was still meditating when he returned; he did not even recall by what route he had gotten there. The sight of the room, when he finally succeeding in ordering his reeling thoughts, was momentarily surprising, forcing him to think back over the past few moments and, consequently, back to what Crion had told him.

He understood now. He understood why Qui-Gon had been reluctant to let him go off alone, why the negotiations had come to a dead halt, why Crion had made the remark about losing people. Losing people – just as Qui-Gon had lost Xanatos, nearly a decade ago now.

"_His previous apprentice. The one he left to die. My son." _

Crion's voice echoed in his head and he shook it as if to clear out the older man's voice. He would not believe such a thing of Qui-Gon – could not allow himself to believe it, if he was totally honest. Qui-Gon could be distant at times, but Obi-Wan could not believe that he would be so callous as to abandon an apprentice, even for so important a thing as a mission. Indeed, all that Obi-Wan had seen of the older Jedi in his admittedly short apprenticeship thus far spoke to the opposite impression.

Why, though, would Crion have said such a thing if there were not some basis of truth in it? A small, doubting voice sounded in the back of his mind, reminding him that there was a great deal about Qui-Gon that he did not know, and for all his trust in his Master, the fact remained that he was only a very junior apprentice, not nearly qualified to judge truth from falsehood. Could Qui-Gon truly have deserted his apprentice? Could he have located the pirates in time and chosen not to?

A week ago, Obi-Wan would have dismissed the possibility out of hand. He could never have believed such a thing about the Jedi Master who had been so very good as to take him in when he seemed destined for the Agri-Corps. And yet, somehow, he could not get the image of Crion's tortured, bitter eyes out of his mind. The man was in pain – that much was certain. He certainly believed that that pain was Qui-Gon's fault, and Obi-Wan admitted that he might, just possibly, have some justification for it. But did Obi-Wan himself believe it?

Rolling over on his sleep couch to glance at his chronometer, the boy realized that the hour was ridiculously late. He had been awake for most of the day and, he saw with a grimace, far into the night – in another few hours he would have to get up, or risk ruining his sleep cycles all over again. Somehow, though, he could not seem to force his mind to stop turning the problem over, considering Crion's words over and over again. A small, more practical part of his mind cursed the enigmatic man for his cryptic phrases and his even less comforting explanations of his actions. If Obi-Wan himself looked like death warmed over the next morning, he vowed silently, he would send Qui-Gon straight to Crion bloody DelThani and they could work the matter out between themselves while Obi-Wan got some much-needed sleep! With that thought in mind, the young Jedi rolled over on the sleep couch, jamming his head against the pillow, determined to catch at least a few hours of sleep. His eyes had barely begun to close when he heard the explosion.

3 a.m – The Consulate Building

The boy had inadvertently saved his life.

It was the first clear thought to cross Crion's somewhat startled mind – the thought that had he not delayed, had he not spoken to the young Jedi, he would at this very instant be lying dead in the wreckage of what had once been his room at the Consulate. The bomb had gone off only moments before Crion had returned to his quarters and his conversation with Obi-Wan had been his only break with routine since he had arrived on the planet. If he had returned at his accustomed time…

"My Lord – my Lord, are you injured?" The guard's voice penetrated the fog and Crion jumped slightly, moving instinctively away from the man's hand. He relaxed a second later upon recognizing his Chief of Security and shook his head.

"No, Captain, I'm alright. Were there any casualties?" The Captain shook his head.

"No, sir – we seem to have been lucky this time."

"Extraordinarily so, I would say," Qui-Gon Jinn said from a few steps away. Crion did not have to speak – he merely turned to glare at the Jedi Master in a manner that, had he known it, was highly reminiscent of his son.

"Are you also an expert on explosives, Master Jedi?" he asked frostily. Qui-Gon, however, did not rise to the bait, merely raised one eyebrow.

"One learns what one must," he commented, picking up the remnants of the bomb.

Qui-Gon had been woken from the nightmare again, this time not by Xanatos's pain but by the sound of an explosion which had rocked the building and shattered the glass on one of the floors below him. He had met Obi-Wan in the hallway and come to investigate as soon as possible. He had arrived outside Crion's room moments later and was now staring at the smoldering ruin of what had once been a rather large suite of rooms. The door had been blown outward in very small pieces and the rest of the room was in similar condition. It looked as if the explosive had been set somewhere near the door, meant to do as much damage as possible to anything unlucky enough to be in the vicinity. The attempt was crude, but would have been effective under normal circumstances. The assassin had evidently gone to some trouble in following Crion to observe his habits but had not been willing or experienced enough to rely on more personal methods than a bomb.

Qui-Gon frowned. That last point of his analysis struck a chord, reminding him of something that Dooku had once told him, a maxim that was both ruthless and extremely practical for all of its seeming callousness.

"If you have to kill someone," the older Jedi Master had once said, very seriously, "do not hesitate. Once it has gotten to that point, it is too late to turn back." Qui-Gon could count on one hand the number of times he had been forced to kill a living opponent to neutralize a threat but even so, he could understand the reasoning behind Dooku's axiom. A Being one had nearly killed was often a more deadly enemy later than any other could ever be. The Jedi Master had found that Dooku was not the only one who held such views – indeed, most of the darker elements of the galaxy lived and died by them. This seemingly sloppy assassination attempt did not match up with his knowledge of the way that the galaxy worked… unless it had not been meant to succeed. Unless, instead of killing Crion, this bombing was meant to be a warning of some sort, one that presumably Crion was meant to understand. From the looks of things, though, he did not need to tell Crion that – the older man looked shell-shocked but was now running a hand through his rumpled hair, smoothing it back and taking a deep breath as he surveyed the damage.

"Do you think that they will try again?" he asked briskly. The captain of the guard nodded grimly.

"That depends on your course of action, my lord," Qui-Gon replied. "This was a warning – that much should be obvious based on the method they used. Whoever was behind this is clearly trying to send a message. Do you have any idea of who it might have been?"

"Several," Crion said dryly. "A good businessman always has at least ten people out to kill him, Master Jinn."

"Are there any who are particularly angry right now?" the captain of the guard asked quietly. Crion raised one eyebrow.

"One name does spring to mind, does it not?" he replied with a distinct edge to his tone, casting a glance toward the Meerian contingent.

"Are you suggesting that we were behind this?" Clat'Ha asked furiously, striding forward to meet the Telosian. It might have been an amusing sight, for she barely came up to his shoulder, but neither of them was in the mood for jesting.

"I am not _suggesting_ anything, dear lady," Crion said with a sneer. "It would be convenient for you, would it not, were I to die? Perhaps you imagine that my successor might be more willing to listen to your pathetic attempts to win a foothold on this planet?"

"That's preposterous! We may not like you, but we'd never try to kill you!"

"Spare me your theatrics," Crion hissed. "Were any of my other enemies out for my blood, I can assure you that I would already be dead. You are the only group inexperienced enough to attempt something as useless as a warning. Do you honestly think me so stupid as to – "

"That is enough," Qui-Gon said forcefully, coming to stand between the two arguing parties. "Lord DelThani, you can prove nothing, and this pointless arguing is not getting us anywhere. Clat'Ha – the building should be checked for structural damage and someone should inform Son Tag of what has happened. In light of tonight's events, may I suggest that negotiations be temporarily suspended, at least until we have all had a chance to cool down?" The look he gave both Crion and the Meerians brooked no argument and both sides reluctantly assented. "Lord DelThani," Qui-Gon continued more quietly, "you will need to increase your security until the assassin is captured. Given the situation, perhaps it would be best if my apprentice and I were to – "

"I do not require assistance from the Jedi!" Crion snapped.

"My lord – perhaps you should reconsider. Your men – "

"Are among the most trustworthy in the galaxy. I have trusted each of them with my life countless times and they have yet to fail me. Good evening, Master Jedi – or should I say good day?" With that, Crion was gone, turning on his heel and storming down the hall, undoubtedly to locate less charred quarters. Qui-Gon sighed, ran a hand over his face, and turned away, meeting the surprisingly knowing gaze of his apprentice.

"We should get what sleep we can – although I would suggest that we do so somewhere else for the night. Come along, Padawan." Obi-Wan nodded and followed his Master away from the building. He was asleep within minutes of crawling at last onto a sleep couch in the workers' quarters.


End file.
